Better Than Your Scones
by E.P. Wat.s
Summary: Arthur tries cooking again...That's all the summary you get. Yep.


**Moving this here from my Wattpad. Cos...I felt like it...and I was bored...and I very much want some soup right now.**

**I don't own Hetalia**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

England paced back and forth, waiting for the oven to go off.

_It smells like smoke but the recipe said to cook for fifteen to seventeen minutes. There's no way I can take them out early._

He continued pacing, jumping and almost screaming when the oven alarm went off. He grabbed his oven mits and pulled them on,becoming distraught as he pulled out the tray of entirely ruined pieces of ash.

"Hey! Iggy! The hero has arrived!" England began to panic. He had found an easy recipe to follow that had turned out tasting delicious for others, so he thought he could try it and show America that he was able to cook edible foods, but he had screwed up and burnt them like always.

"Damn it..." He muttered, quickly hiding the tray behind his back as America entered the kitchen.

"Ugh! Ew! Dude what is that smell? Were you cooking again?" The American looked at the other nation, his question answered by the apron he wore and the flour stains all over him, presumably from when he dropped it if the pile of spilt flour on the floor and counter was any clue.

"U-um maybe." England glanced over at the clock. "You git! You're two hours early!"

"Yeah I thought "if Iggster wants me to come over so badly, t must be important.' So I hurried over as fast as I could!" America smiled at him, his smile causing England's face to turn pink, and his heart to beat faster.

"G-git...I...I wanted to surprise you..." He mumbled, looking away.

"Hmm? With what?" England shook his head.

"Just forget about it. It-it didn't turn out right. You can go home. I apologize for taking up your time."

"No dude really! What was it?" America came closer, poking England in the forehead. "Tell me tell me tell me!" England blushed more and swatted his hand away.

"Well, if you insist. I've...been practicing my cooking and...I thought I had gotten better so I wanted to make something for you...but I was wrong. I ruined it like always."

"You wanted to cook for me?" America asked, tilting his head to the side. England looked away and nodded. "Dude no offence but for you better food is still not edible." England sighed and nodded again. "Buuuuuut~"

"But what?"

"Why don't we cook something together? Come on! It'll be epic!"

"You...want to cook with me...?"

"Yeah! Let's do it!"

"Well...Alright...Git."

* * *

"Pass me the sugar."

"Alright. Here you are."

"Dude this is salt."

"What? But...I thought it was sugar..."

"Ha ha ha! Bro no wonder your cooking sucks so bad!"

"Shut up git!"

"Ow! Hey don't throw that at me! You got flour all over me!"

"You deserved it git-HEY! Ow! You got salt in my eye!"

"Well you got flour in mine!"

"It's on now, wanker!"

"Come at me bro!"

And so an all out kitchen war began. When it finally ended, England's once lovely kitchen was a mess, and the two nations in the middle were worse. America took one look at England and burst out laughing, falling over onto his knees and holding his stomach.

"Dude! You look like a cake or something!"

"So do you!" England too was laughing hard. He managed to stop and went over to the sink, trying to wash himself off as best as he could without getting the flour wet. He jumped and nearly screamed when he felt a tongue on his neck. "W-what the bloody hell do you think you are doing?!"

"mmm~ You had some sugar there. Actual sugar, not salt. You taste nice." America whispered into the other's ear in a rather seductive tone. "I like it." He murmured, licking at the other's neck once more, nipping softly at it.

England was bright red. "Nnn A-America st-stop that!"

"Oh come on. You know you want more than this." England, if possible, turned even more red.

"A-America..." He murmured, looking over his shoulder at the other nation. America smirked and pressed his lips to England's quickly. England's eyes widened and before he could react, America had pulled back. "W-what was that for?"

"England...you really are stupid."

"Wha...What?"

"I love you England." England's eyes widened.

"Wh-what? Y-you...What?"

"I. Love. You." with each word America moved his face in closer, his lips brushing against England's at the end. England smiled and threw his arms around America's neck, smashing their lips together.

America, not having expected that, stumbled back a bit, tripping and falling over, pulling England down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around England's waist, kissing back passionately. He nipped at the other nations's lips, tugging gently. When England parted his lips, he carefully slipped in his tongue, tangling it with England's and beginning a war for dominance, a war England allowed him to win easily.

When they finally parted for air, England rested his head on America's chest, listening to the other's heart, smiling happily and breathing heavily.

"America..." he murmured. "I...I love you too."

* * *

Alfred had sat Arthur on the counter top attacking the Brit's lips with his own. Nipping, sucking, licking, tugging. Arthur moaned and tangled his tongue with Alfred's, wrapping his arms around the other's neck, and his legs around his waist. After a moment or two Alfred picked Arthur up and carried him to the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss.

Alfred lay Arthur down, climbing on top of him. He slipped a hand up the other's shirt, his other hand heading down South. He pinched one of Arthur's nipples earning a soft moan from the Brit below him. That moan grew louder as his other hand began to rub at the other's "vital regions".

"A-Alfred...Alfred stop...!" Alfred stopped and looked at the Brit, an eyebrow raised. Arthur blushed and looked away. "I...I want this but...I think we should wait..." Alfred sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. Alright. ...Now I feel bad." Now it was Arthur's turn to raise an eyebrow.  
"Why is that?" Alfred blushed a little and glanced down at the tent that had formed in the Brit's pants.

"O-Oh..." Arthur chuckled softly. "Don't worry. Nothing a cold shower won't fix." He sat up and kissed Alfred softly. "I'm going to go and take care of this problem, and I want you to go clean up the kitchen."

"Wha?! No fair!"

"I think it's completely fair seeing as it's partially your fault, and you gave me this..." He blushed. "Little problem...now then, the broom is in the cellar and so is the mop. Have fun Alfie~"


End file.
